Goosebumps Aftermath
by Myra109
Summary: What happened after the screen went dark in the Goosebumps episodes? TV show universe, K plus for now
1. Heroes Always Go Out Saving

_This is a prompt from Rick And Maggie._

 _Also, I went off of the years in the book, not the TV show. The book takes place in 2015, so that's what any years are based off of._

 _EPISODE: CUCKOO CLOCK OF DOOM_

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing_**

* * *

Tara the Terror was the most annoying creature in the history of the world, but while she could be downright cruel at times, her brother was not.

Two days had passed since he'd accidently erased his little sister from existence, and the guilt had been gnawing at Michael ever since.

As much as it pained him, he knew he had to go back and save Tara. It was the right thing to do. Just because she loved to make his life miserable didn't give him the right to be cruel enough to erase her. That was like murder in Michael's book.

The sun had long since gone down when Michael crept into the den. The dim light from the moon created beams of silver across the carpet, but other than that, Michael was shrouded by darkness.

Michael approached the cuckoo clock with quivering hands. That cuckoo clock had caused him a lot of trouble and a lot of pain, but he needed to get his baby sister back. He disliked her (maybe even hated her sometimes), but she was family. Family doesn't leave anyone behind.

Michael's hand trembled like a leaf in the wind as he raised it above his head and traced his fingers over the sleek wood beside the little door. The yellow bird with its electric eyes lurked behind it, and it was ready to spring out in three… two… one…

The door slid open, and the bird popped out of its hiding place, nearly hitting Michael in the eye as he leaped back.

"Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" the bird squawked. "Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"

It was now or never.

Michael leapt forward and twisted the bird's head around, listening to the awful crick of the neck as he did so. The bird finished its twelve cuckoos facing backwards.

The bird returned to its compartment, and Michael's hand hovered above the dial on the side of the cuckoo clock.

The dial told the year. The dial was currently pointed to 2015, and Michael took a shaky breath as he turned the dial to face 2004.

The world spun around him, and just like that, Michael Wheeler was tossed back in time.

The first time around, Michael had simply deaged. Gone back in time over night. He'd never aimed for a specific year, and trust me, it was a very different experience than the first time around.

He was spinning in circles. The world was a burst of color. There were colors he recognized, like green and purple, and others he'd never seen and couldn't even begin to describe. There was sound, but it was difficult to put it into words. It was a mixture of a soft breeze, a whistle, and a low groan, but it almost sounded musical. He could hear laughter, voices, music, and other sounds he knew, but he couldn't name them.

The whole experience was something that could never be put into words.

And then, the pain set in.

The first time around, he'd deaged a few years over night, but he'd never deaged eleven years within a matter of minutes. Least to say, it was painful.

His bones were shrinking, and it felt like they were being crushed and broken and healed over and over again. His skin was being stretched over his bones; his bones were now too big for his rapidly shrinking skin, and the bones were broken all over again as the pressure snapped them. Seconds after they were broken, they were healed, but they were much smaller than before. His clothes were shrinking as well, and it was utterly comfortable to be in clothes that were four sizes too small. His scalp was tugging his hair back into his head until his hair was shorter, and the pain was that of getting your hair pulled times three.

You couldn't even begin to imagine how painful the whole experience was.

Just like that, it was over, and Michael was staring at a spinning circle of dinosaurs above his head. Rainbows were painted on the wall, and his mother was leaning over his crib.

"Aw," she cooed. "Hello, Michael."

His father appeared beside his mother.

His father smiled. "Why don't we go for a walk downtown?" he asked Michael.

Michael smiled, hitting his arms against the mattress.

Come on, he thought. Let's go! The sooner we get to the antique store, the sooner everything returns to normal.

"Why don't we go to Anthony's?" his father asked.

Michael grinned, hitting the mattress harder.

Yes! He thought. YES!

"No," his mother said.

Michael pouted, trying to act like he was disappointed with his mother's decision, which wasn't hard.

"Why not?" his father asked.

"Anthony charges an arm and a leg," his mother pointed out.

Then, give him an arm and a leg! Michael thought. Give him anything if it means going to the antique store. Small price to pay for returning the world to normal.

How he wished they could hear him…

No, he took that back. They'd probably think he was crazy.

"Maybe we shouldn't go anywhere," his mother said. "He's getting fussy."

How's this? Michael thought, smiling with the few baby teeth he had.

"He's fine. Come on, honey," his father said with a raised eyebrow. "Michael, do you want to go to Anthony's?"

Michael squealed, standing up and ready to go.

"Fine," his mother relented, making Michael squeal louder.

* * *

His mother rolled the stroller into Anthony's and parked it in the center of the packed shop.

"Hey, Anthony," his father greeted.

"Mr. Webster, what are you in for today?"

"Oh, we're just browsing," Mrs. Webster said.

"Oh, well, we have some wonderful tables over here…"

The parents left Michael and turned their backs.

Now's my chance! Michael thought.

Michael stood and approached the clock in the corner of the store. He climbed on blocks and tables (he even knocked some objects over, but luckily, there was a display of pillows right beneath him, so they didn't make a sound when they hit the pillows).

Less than a minute, Michael thought as he watched, impatiently, for the bird to appear.

Cuckoo! Cuckoo!

The bird popped out of its compartment with its head backwards. The sound made his parents and Anthony spin around.

"Grab that baby!" Anthony shouted.

Michael reached skyward and turned the bird's head around. As his arm returned to his side, a number fell from the clock and hit the floor. It was not 2010 (Michael made sure to be careful around that tile). It was 2003.

A flash of light blinded Michael, and he stumbled backwards, expecting to find himself sitting in an arm chair, but he didn't.

The vortex of color and unidentifiable sounds appeared once more, and Michael felt the unbearable pain begin again.

Was he growing? This didn't happen the first time.

His skin shrunk, and Michael's eyes widened.

He'd knocked off the tile 2003. The year he was born.

No! No!

Michael felt pain overwhelm him as he shrunk once more.

He saved Tara. He was a hero.

Pain.

 _Hero_.

Pain.

 _Hero_.

Pain.

 _Hero_.

Despite the awful pain, Michael smiled. He was a hero; he'd saved his sister. He didn't particularly like her, but he loved her, and saving her was worth being erased.

Michael Wheeler smiled one last time before the vortex vanished from his sights, and he tumbled into darkness.

Michael Wheeler was no more.

* * *

Tara Wheeler opened her eyes on that early morning, and she squinted at her ceiling. She could hear her father working in his office next door, and her mother was making breakfast down in the kitchen.

It was a typical morning. Just her, her mother, her father, and their cat. No one else.

But for some reason, Tara felt like something was missing.

* * *

Michael had died (or been erased, which was basically dying, although he'd fall into oblivion and would not wake up in the afterlife) for a sister that made his life miserable. He'd saved Tara the Terror simply because it was the right thing to do, and he'd been erased. If Michael's soul still existed, though, he wouldn't regret a thing.

Heroes always go out saving.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading!_


	2. Family Is The Most Important Thing

_Chapter 2._

 _EPISODE: HAUNTED MASK PART 1 AND 2_

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing_**

* * *

Carly Beth was even more horrified than when she'd been the one wearing the mask.

Noah chuckled and stared back, his face covered by a hideous, grotesque sheet of leather. The jagged teeth moved with his mouth, and his eyes were already turning a dark color-almost black- so unlike his blue eyes.

"Noah, take that off!" Carly Beth ordered.

"Why?" Noah demanded.

"Yeah, Carly Beth," her mother admonished. "Share with your brother."

"No!" Carly Beth shouted. "You don't understand. That mask is evil. Take it off, Noah!"

Noah blinked, skeptically, before reaching for the bottom of the mask and trying to pull it off.

"That's weird," he said, laughing nervously. "I can't get it off."

"What do you mean you can't get it off?" their mother questioned, crossing the room and trying to pry the mask off herself.

"Why can't I get it off?" Noah said, panic beginning to seep into his voice.

"It's okay," their mother said, soothingly. "I'll go get some scissors, and I'll help you cut it off."

Their mother exited the room, and Carly Beth stared at her brother, too terrified to move.

She'd almost lost herself tonight. She couldn't lose her brother, too. Sure, he annoyed her, but at the end of the day, they were still siblings, and she wouldn't trade him for the world.

"Carly Beth!" Noah exclaimed, continuing to pull on the mask. "Help me please!"

"Noah, I'm going to be quick, but you need to believe me. We don't have much time," Carly Beth said before rattling off the story of the mask and the entire night.

"So how do we get it off?" Noah asked, fearfully. Noah had always been so confident; the frightened tone made Carly Beth want to cry, but she couldn't unleash her tears. Not yet. She had to save her brother first.

"The man at the store said a symbol of love," Carly Beth muttered. "Do you still have the picture our mom painted of you?"

Noah nodded. "Of course. It's in my room."

Carly Beth took Noah by the shoulders and lead him down the hall while their mom searched the kitchen for scissors.

Noah retrieved the picture from the cabinet beneath his nightstand and handed it to Carly Beth.

It was a simple, but very realistic, painting of Noah; it'd been a gift from their mom a few months ago. She'd made it in art class and brought it home to Noah, who acted very excited about it. At the time, Carly Beth thought Noah was trying to spare their mom's feelings (after all, most kids don't like pictures and paintings and such. Typically, drawings are like cards: the kids either throw them away or toss them in a drawer and forget about them), but Noah had saved the painting and had placed it in a laminated folder to prevent it from getting damaged. He obviously cherished the work of art.

"Do you think this is going to work?' Noah asked, still tugging on the mask. "Ow!"

Carly Beth grabbed her brother's hands and gently pulled them away from the mask.

"Stop pulling on it," she instructed. "It only makes it worse."

She stared at the picture for another minute before handing it to Noah.

"Now, focus on the picture and think about how much you love yourself and how much others love you."

Noah focused on the picture and closed his eyes, obviously trying to do what she told him to do.

Sixty seconds passed before Noah opened his eyes. Or should I say the eyes of the mask?

"It didn't work," he mumbled, tears of panic beginning to fill his eyes.

Carly Beth wrapped her arms around Noah, not even seeming to notice the disgusting feeling of the mask under her cheek.

"Carly Beth," Noah murmured, "I'm scared."

Carly Beth nodded. "I am, too, Noah, but we're going to figure this out. I love you, Noah. I don't care about the mask; I will always love you, no matter how scary you look."

Noah nodded. "Thanks, Carly Beth. I love you, too."

Carly Beth pressed a soft kiss to Noah's forehead and leaned her head on his.

Noah froze. "Carly Beth," he said in disbelief as his fingers curled beneath the mask and pulled it off of his face. "Oh my gosh."

"A symbol of love," she murmured. "The kiss."

Noah hugged Carly Beth, and the older sister pressed another kiss to his forehead, thankful for the soft skin beneath her lips instead of the rough leather.

"I love you," Carly Beth repeated.

* * *

Carly Beth vowed to save her brother from the mask that would haunt him and change who he was. She was willing to do anything to save him; she was willing to drop everything in order to save the brother that annoyed her, endlessly, and she didn't even care about how much he irritated her. He was her family.

Family is the most important thing.

* * *

 _That's chapter 2. I honestly enjoyed chapter 1 better, but I'd like to know what you thought of this chapter._


	3. Things Happen For A Reason

_Chapter 3._

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing_**

* * *

It didn't long for Max to realize that _Noah_ wasn't Noah.

The signs were continuously showing up over the course of a few days. He threw with his right hand; he cocked his left eyebrow when he was curious (the real Noah always cocked his right eyebrow); and the right corner of his mouth curved higher than the left when he smiled (with the real Noah, it was the opposite).

Basically, _Noah_ was a reflection of the real Noah. He did everything the exact opposite. He was a mirror of Max's little brother.

That's how Max found himself climbing the ladder to the attic on a stormy night two weeks after they broke the mirror. Or at least they _thought_ they broke the mirror.

When Max arrived in the secret room, he found the mirror entirely intact. The glass even seemed cleaner, shinier, instead of dusty and grimy from years in a musty attic.

Max vaguely wondered how long it had been here and why him, his brother, and his friends had to be the unlucky ones to find it.

Max stared into the mirror, gazing at his reflection. He raised a shaking hand above his head and pulled the cord.

He immediately vanished from view, and he slowly touched his fingertips against the smooth glass. He could feel the frigid air on the other side of the surface.

Max would be lying if he said he wasn't scared of what lay on the other side of the mirror.

He couldn't concern himself with his fear. His younger brother was on the other side, and although Noah constantly annoyed him, Max would die for him. Or in this case, get trapped in a freezing, strange, creepy, and potentially dangerous world behind the glass of the mirror.

Max pressed his fingers against the glass harder, and finally, his hand melted into the mirror, almost like an arm reaching into a bucket of water. His feet left the ground of the attic, and he tumbled through.

The first thing Max noticed was the cold; he remembered it well. It was the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and poisoned your entire body, making you tremble and shiver and feel like you'll never be warm again. It made the fear and slight amount of hopelessness Max was already feeling triple.

The next thing Max noticed was the blue. He remembered that well, too: A bright blue that almost looked like the color of technological paint on a tablet. Shining and glowing and almost blinding in a way.

Max stood and stared around at the world that he vowed to never return to.

He had to find Noah. Now.

"Noah!" he called before breaking into a sprint.

He hadn't seen his reflection anywhere, and he didn't want to stick around to see the replica of himself, although in terms of personality, they couldn't be more different.

"Noah!" Max yelled louder, running even faster than before. He didn't know how long he had in this world before his reflection realized he was there and saw an opportunity to 'switch,' but he figured that it wasn't long.

It didn't take Max long to find the 'hall of mirrors,' as he called it. Multiple mirrors floated in front of him: people he didn't know mostly, but he picked Noah out within seconds.

"Noah!" he cried, pressing his hands against the cool glass of a rectangular mirror.

Noah whimpered and rubbed his shivering arms.

"It's okay, Noah!" Max called, unsure if Noah could hear him, "I'll get you out!"

Max raised his fist to punch the mirror and shatter the glass, but a hand grabbed his wrist and stopped him, using an almost impossible amount of strength. Max knew this person like the back of his hand. Probably because the hand he saw grabbing his wrist _was_ the back of his hand.

"Trying to save Noah?" his reflection mocked. "You see, _my_ brother doesn't want to come back to this world, and honestly, I don't want to stay here. It's time to switch, Max."

"No!" Max shouted, kicking his reflection in the leg and taking him by surprise.

His reflection kneeled over in shock and pain, and Max took that as an opportunity to smack him in the neck, sending him sprawling.

That was when Max experienced his own dose of pain.

His leg lit on fire for a few moments before dulling to an ache that got worse when he put weight on his ankle. His neck burned with pain, and he groaned in sudden agony.

His reflection smirked. "I'm your reflection, Max. Any pain I feel, you do, too."

His reflection noticed Max's distraction and used it to his advantage. He grabbed the back of Max's shirt and tossed him into the mirror with his younger brother.

Arms caught Max as he tumbled through the glass, and Max straightened up to see a shuddering Noah staring back.

"We're trapped," Max realized.

Noah nodded. "N-No wa-way ou-out," he added, his teeth chattering.

Max removed his jacket and wrapped it around Noah's shoulders, although that did little to warm Noah in this frigid world. Noah still appreciated the gesture.

They were trapped, but at least they were trapped together. Nothing scared Max more than being alone for all eternity.

* * *

Max was trapped with his brother, and as he huddled with his sibling in the cold world on the other side of the mirror, they promised themselves that somehow they would break out. They had each other; two heads are better than one.

Max, Erin, Zach, and Noah were the ones to find the mirror after the mirror remained in hiding for several decades, and then, Max ended up trapped with his brother on the other side of a mirror while their reflections walked the earth. Maybe they were unlucky, or maybe they were a part of a much bigger plan.

After all, things happen for a reason.

* * *

 _This story will typically be updated every Tuesday. There may be some exceptions, but typically, it will be updated every Tuesday._

 _Thanks for reading!_


	4. Sometimes Dreams Are The Best Things

_chapter 4!_

 _EPISODE: STAY OUT OF THE BASEMENT_

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing_**

* * *

Margaret's eyes shot open, and she stared at the ceiling, sweat dripping down her face.

What on earth? The last thing she remembered was killing the replica of her father (the plant clone thing), and now, she was waking up in bed.

Had it all been a dream? It was certainly bizarre enough to be a dream.

"Margaret, breakfast!" her father called from downstairs, and Margaret swung her feet off the bed and stood. Time to test her dream theory for herself…

She hoped it was a dream. Otherwise, she was either hallucinating or had passed out in the basement, and neither of those seemed like good alternatives to the dream theory.

Margaret walked down the steps in her pajamas (now she knew she hadn't passed out. If she had, she'd still be in her clothes from the basement incident).

She walked into the kitchen to find her father flipping pancakes on the stove (no green plant food! Thank goodness), but Casey was no where in sight.

"Where's Casey?" she asked, sitting down at the kitchen table. "He's always first down for breakfast."

Her father looked over his shoulder at her, knitting his eyebrows.

"Who's Casey? I love you, Princess, but you're a little old for imaginary friends."

Margaret frowned. "Casey. My brother?"

Her father laughed. "Margaret, did you stay up late again texting Stacie? You don't have a brother."

Margaret chuckled. "Very funny, Dad. I'll go get the brother that I _do_ have."

Her father turned away from the stove to stare at her back as she approached the staircase.

"Margaret, are you feeling okay?" he called after her, but she didn't reply as she ascended the stairs and knocked on Casey's door.

"Casey!" she called through the wood. "Breakfast!"

Nothing.

She knocked again. "Casey?"

Nothing.

She sighed in irritation.

"If you're playing your DS and are too distracted to answer me, I'll-" she stopped short as she opened the door.

Casey's bed. Casey's dresser. Casey's toys and sports equipment. Casey's DS, which he seemed to cherish even more than oxygen. All gone.

Casey's room was a lab.

Beakers, test tubes, and a bunch of science equipment Margaret didn't know the names for were piled high on tables.

But that was impossible. Dad's lab was in the basement, and where was Casey's room? More importantly, where was Casey?

Margaret sprinted from room to room, opening door after door and glancing into the rooms. Bathroom, master bedroom, closet, her room. No Casey. Not even another bedroom.

Margaret raced down the steps and noticed her father standing in the doorway of the kitchen, having finished cooking breakfast. He looked very confused.

"Margaret, what are you-"

She interrupted him by slamming the door to the final room she'd checked. Still no Casey. No other bedroom. No sign that her brother even lived here. Even his video games had vanished from the shelf beside the TV.

There was only one room she hadn't checked.

She threw open the basement door and took the steps two at a time.

No bedroom. No wild plants. No lab. No Casey. It was a room painted a dreary gray with piles of boxes and old toys (girls toys. No boys) and nothing else. It looked like the basement before her dad turned it into a lab.

"Margaret!" her father yelled, following her. "You know you're not supposed to be down here by yourself!"

Margaret didn't see why, but she didn't care.

"Where's Casey?" she demanded.

Her father frowned. "There is no Casey. Are you feeling okay?" her father asked, placing the back of his hand against her forehead. "You do feel a little warm. Let's get you back to bed."

"But… Casey…" Margaret trailed off, feeling puzzled and defeated, before allowing herself to be lead to her room.

* * *

Margaret was exhausted, but she couldn't sleep. Her mind was whirling with all the things she'd learned, all the possibilities of where Casey was.

Had it all been a dream? The plants, the basement, the plant clone of her dad? Had her whole life with Casey been a dream? It was so vivid.

But now that she thought about it, she couldn't recall many details. She couldn't recall Casey's middle name. She couldn't recall his favorite color or his favorite food or his favorite video game. Even now, as she laid in her bed, every detail was beginning to fade. His age, his height, his hair color… even more obvious things were becoming hazy in her memory.

She couldn't lose the last thing she had of him.

Margaret had always been a good artist. She picked up a sketchbook and sketched a picture of Casey, watching an illustration of her brother bleed across the page.

She stared at the picture of Casey. She couldn't believe she was saying this, but… she wanted her irritating little brother back. All her life, she'd wanted to be an only child. Now that she lost Casey… she immediately retracted that wish.

Margaret went to sleep and prayed when she woke up, this life without Casey was the dream and not the other way around.

When she awakened, Casey was still no where to be found.

Margaret curled up on her side in her bed and cried herself to sleep.

She'd learned from experience that her dreams could be better than reality.

* * *

Margaret dreamed of a life with a little brother, and when she awakened, she would've given anything to return to the dream where Casey existed. She often revisited the Dream world to simply be with Casey, but she would inevitably wake up and have to live her life without the brother she so desperately wanted by her side.

Sometimes dreams are the best things.

* * *

 _Make sure to review!_


	5. Being Different Isn't Always A Bad Thing

_I know it's been a while since I last updated. Sorry._

 _Also, I will be doing any requests I've been given eventually, but I have a few chapters I need to do before I can do those requests._

 _EPISODE: THE GIRL WHO CRIED MONSTER_

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

* * *

After Mr. Mortman, things were quiet for almost five years.

Lucy was now seventeen, and Randy had just turned thirteen. Lucy had grown several inches since age twelve, and her wavy brown hair now reached her waist; she typically wore it in a braid, which she swept over her shoulder, or held it back with a headband. Her body, once the slim body of a child, now bore curves and hips, and as time passed, Lucy had grown into her features, so they were more proportional and more shaped to fit her face. These changes all made Lucy quite beautiful, and although she could've been popular due to her looks, her smarts, her humor, her easy going attitude, or all of the above, she chose to stick with one friend, Aaron. She didn't want to draw too much attention to her family, after all.

Randy, if possible, had changed more than Lucy over the past five years. He was only two inches shorter than her, even if he was four years younger, and his shaggy brown hair had been trimmed and cut until it fell into a _cool_ style with bangs that he could sweep behind his ears and hair that swooshed to the side, naturally; needless to say, the overgrown hair, complete with bangs that nearly reached his nose if he didn't do something to hold them back, he'd had when he was eight was long gone. He was quite handsome for a boy his age, and he was truly gifted in certain sports, including baseball and hockey (but not football or basketball; he tried those once. It did not go well). His involvement in athletes and had left him lean, and although he lacked obvious muscles, he was still stronger than most boys his age.

Five years had passed since the last monster had come to town. That was about to change.

Lucy and Randy had earned their training fangs at age thirteen (meaning Lucy had gotten them four years ago, and Randy had only earned his a few months before). They wouldn't get their real fangs until age eighteen at the earliest; their mother had received her's at age nineteen, and their father hadn't gotten his until he was twenty-one.

Randy spotted the monster this time. She was a woman in her late twenties and all around mean. Rebecca Dorson hated all people, especially kids; she had hair black as night and a beautiful face, but it was always pulled into an angry, unpleasant scowl. She could've passed for a teenager if you were just looking at her appearance; in fact, Randy and Lucy had been surprised to find out that she was actually twenty-nine.

Randy had gone to her house on a dare. His friend would pay him ten dollars if he rang the doorbell and got away before she saw him; hardly anyone was daring enough to approach her house, so the dare may sound simple, but it was far from it.

Randy crept around the side of the house and peaked in through the window; he didn't want to ring the doorbell if she was right inside. She'd get to the door before he could reach the safety of the woods on the other side of the street.

She was in the first room.

Dang it, Randy thought. Looks like he'd have to wait a little longer to get that ten bucks.

But then, he saw what she was doing.

A cauldron rested on a table with a dark purple table cloth, and she was stirring it, whispering under her breath as it bubbled and smoked, pouring green steam into the room.

She muttered something he couldn't hear through the glass window and waved a stick in the air (a wand, a small voice in the back of his head corrected).

Immediately, her good looks melted away. Her black hair became a dirty white color, and her back hunched over. Wrinkles stretched across her skin, and her feet grew until they were almost as long as Randy's forearm; her toes were jagged and a disgusting brown color, as well her fingernails. Her body was incredibly bony; her arms were as thin as a stick and looked about as breakable. Her dark brown eyes became almost black.

"That's better!" she exclaimed in a crackling voice, one that Randy could hear through the glass and was torture for his poor ears.

Another monster had moved in right down the street.

Randy bolted for his house, tripping over bushes and abandoned toys and the uneven sidewalk before he finally burst through his front door to find his mother and sister sitting on the couch and his father reading the newspaper in his arm chair.

They looked up at his abrupt entrance.

Randy panted, exhausted from his run. "Monster," he whispered, and they knew the message he was trying to communicate. Their eyes widened.

You could've heard a pin drop.

* * *

"It was so nice of you to invite me over for dinner," Ms. Dorson said, flatly, as she entered their house.

"We should've done this much sooner," Mrs. Dark told her. "After all, you are new to the neighborhood."

"What's for dinner?" the woman asked, glancing at the empty table.

"Well, it was meant to be a surprise," Randy stated as their parents nodded at them in permission.

"But since you asked," Lucy continued.

"You are!" they cackled.

Mrs. Dorson blinked. "What?"

Lucy and Randy felt their fangs grow rapidly, sticking out of their mouths in two jagged, pristine white fangs.

The woman begged for her life, but she was a monster, and they couldn't risk her exposing their family.

Lucy and Randy's first meal came to an end soon after, and their parents beamed at them in pride.

Lucy and Randy may be different from the rest of you, but there are perks of being a monster. Strong teeth, faster than average speed, sometimes even heightened senses and strength. They may see things different, but they still live a good life and do what they have to to maintain their good life, to _survive_. Being a monster doesn't automatically make them evil.

Being different isn't always a bad thing, after all.

* * *

 _And that concludes chapter 5! Thanks for reading!_


	6. This Is Where We Belong

_EPISODE: A NIGHT IN TERROR TOWER_

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

* * *

"I'm glad we're safe," Sue muttered as they stepped off of the bus.

"Me, too," Eddie agreed.

They spoke too soon.

They hadn't taken three steps before Eddie stopped in his tracks, and Morgred and Sue glanced back at him, confused. Eddie's face was pure white, and his eyes were so wide, they almost popped out of his head. He was shaking in his boots (or his tennis shoes… you get my point).

"Eddie, what is it?" Sue demanded.

Eddie lifted a shaking finger and pointed to something over Sue's shoulder. Sue and Morgred followed his gaze, and Sue's eyes bulged upon seeing a man in dark clothing leaning against a nearby wall. He was fiddling with a small white sphere and staring directly at them with a dark smile.

It was the man that had been chasing them, the man that wanted to kill them.

"Susanna, Edward, run!" Morgred shouted, and both children sprinted in the opposite direction while Morgred began firing every spell he could think of at the approaching man.

The man smirked and raised a knife above his head, having retrieved the blade from the inside of his jacket.

Morgred glanced over his shoulder and watched the children disappear around the corner.

He sighed. He knew he was going to die. His spells had no affect on the man, and he was coming closer with his weapon in his grasp, ready to annihilate the sorcerer.

He'd promised the king that he would protect Susanna and Edward with his life, and he intended to do that. He couldn't protect them after he was killed, but at least he could buy them some time to get as far away as possible. And maybe… perhaps he could cast one more spell that would save the children, even if it was much more complex and there was only a one in a hundred chance that it might work. It was worth a shot.

Morgred shouted his last words, a chant that made the street lights flicker and the world go dark for a few moments.

The sun reappeared in the sky as Morgred ended the spell, praying that it worked, and the man raised the blade above the sorcerer's heart.

Morgred closed his eyes and waited to die…

* * *

Sue and Eddie whirled around the corner of a building and found themselves in a dead end alley way.

 _"Of course!"_ Eddie yelled, sarcastically.

Sue turned around, ready to drag Eddie back into the busy streets and continue to run until that man was left so far behind, he'd never find them.

Unfortunately, she came face to face with the very man they were running from.

"Hello, children," he smirked, turning his knife over in his hands. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

Sue's hand grasped Eddie's, and tears streamed from their eyes. They were a prince and princess and _should_ face execution with dignity, but while they may be royalty, they're also children. Hardly any children could face death, especially such a painful and gruesome one, without fear shining in their eyes.

At least it wasn't the axe. Beheading was sickeningly gruesome, and the siblings would take being stabbed over beheaded.

"Say your prayers, kids. They won't be answered," the man smirked.

Sue and Eddie clenched their eyes closed and prayed that when they opened them, they'd find themselves in their castle with their mother and father and Morgred alive, like this had all been a terrifying nightmare.

But they didn't wake up from this nightmares- this _night terror_. Instead, they felt something sharp pierce their chests (Sue felt it first, and then Eddie) and something warm oozed down their skin.

Funnily enough, it didn't hurt. The death was quick. Sue and Eddie kept their eyes closed, their hands intertwined, and dying felt like drifting off to sleep. They both wondered why; being stabbed in the heart should've hurt, but they were glad it didn't.

Susanna and Edward died on the cold ground, wanting nothing more than to wake up in their own time. Wanting nothing more than to return to their true time, their true home.

* * *

Susanna didn't expect to open her eyes again, but when she pried her eyes open, she found herself staring at the scarlet fabric of her canopy bed. She sat up and found herself lying in her own bed in the castle. She was back in the fifteen hundreds, back in her original time.

There was no stab wound in her chest, no blood. She was pretty sure this wasn't Heaven (although in that moment, it felt like it), which could only mean one thing.

She was _alive_.

Susanna leaped out of bed and dashed down the hall, throwing open the door to her brother's room.

"Susanna!" Edward yelled, jumping out of his own bed and embracing Susanna so tightly, she feared she might start turning blue.

"We're alive… but how?" Susanna asked.

"Morgred cast one last spell. What was it?" Edward muttered.

 _"Qua ratione haec sint alterna pueros mitteret tutus,"_ Susanna recited. "But what does that mean?"

Edward dragged a book off of a desk and flipped it open.

"A Latin translator. The statement means… send these children to an alternate dimension where they will be safe from harm," Edward translated. "Morgred must have sent us to an alternate dimension where we weren't executed."

"But our uncle took over the kingdom, so if we're still in our castle, could that mean that our uncle never took over?" Susanna asked.

"And if he never took over," Edward trailed off. "That means…"

Both children leapt to their feet and bolted out the door and down the hall, nearly running over some of the help. They arrived at their parents' room and thundered inside, the door banging off the wall and jolting their parents from their sleep.

Their parents were alive!

"Mother, Father!" Susanna yelled, and both children tackled their parents in a hug.

"This is not appropriate for royalty," their father pointed out, but he couldn't help but laugh.

"Sire," a voice said from the doorway. "I have- oh, I'm sorry. Did I interrupt something?"

"Morgred!" Edward shouted, and Morgred found himself, too, being embraced by the two children.

"What is all the hugging about?" their mother chuckled.

"It's a long story…" Susanna stated.

"Well, why don't we all talk about it over breakfast?" their father suggested, standing up and putting on his slippers.

"In our pajamas?" Edward asked.

"I'll allow it," their father agreed. "Just this once, though."

The parents, the children, and even the sorcerer, who was surprised when Susanna asked him to join them for breakfast, headed downstairs to the dining room, and as they descended the stairs, the siblings shared a knowing look.

They were in their own time, in their own home, with their own family. The future- the twentieth century- was great, but they preferred their own time- the fifteenth century. While they had enjoyed the future, they were glad to be back in their own time, and they knew the truth:

 _This is where we belong._

* * *

 ** _Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks for reading!_**


	7. Everything Will Be Okay

_I have gotten multiple requests for this episode, so I hope you like the chapter._

 _EPISODE: THE BLOB THAT ATE EVERYONE_

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

* * *

Zach was awakened by a low growl, and he mumbled in his half asleep haze, thinking Adam was messing with him again.

But wait. How would Adam get into his house?

Zach's eyes opened, and he glanced from one end of the room to the other, combing the shadows for anything out of the ordinary.

A loud yell made him sit bolt up right in his bed, and he swallowed harshly as he stared at his bedroom door, listening to the shouts and the strange rumbling sounds.

Zach leaped out of his bed and bolted down the steps until he skidded into the entrance hall.

His jaw dropped.

The Blob Monster was sitting in the center of the living room, growling and snarling as the boots of Zach's father disappeared into the gigantic mouth. With one last cry, his father disappeared completely, and judging by the empty room, his mother had been devoured as well.

"No!" Zach screamed before clenching his eyes shut.

 _I wish the Blob Monster was gone, and Mom and Dad were okay!_

Within seconds, the monster disappeared, morphing into his bewildered parents.

"Zach, it's the middle of the night. What are you doing up?" his mother demanded.

"Uh… I just… came to get a drink," Zach choked out.

"Well, hurry up. It may be summer, but I don't want you sleeping in until noon," his father laughed before his parents disappeared into the next room.

Zach hadn't used his powers tonight; he hadn't used them since he first created the monster over a month ago. So how had the monster gotten here?

Zach grabbed a water bottle and bolted up the stairs and into his bedroom, trying not to slam the door in his panicked haste.

The teenage boy snatched up the phone and dialed the number of his best friend, Alex.

"Zach," her sleepy voice answered. "What… it's two AM. Why are you calling?"

"The monster came back, and I don't remember using my powers to bring it here," Zach blurted.

That woke her up real quick. "What… okay. Is it gone?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll be there around six am. I can't leave now, so just… avoid using your powers until then, okay?" she said.

Zach nodded, although he knew she couldn't see him.

"Okay…"

* * *

"I've been following you around all day and nothing strange has happened," Alex said long after the sun had disappeared behind the hills and the moon has risen that night.

Zach shrugged. "I don't know what caused it."

Alex blinked as some of the pieces clicked together in her mind. "Wait. You said you were asleep when the Blob Monster appeared?"

Zach nodded.

"Then, we have one more test," she stated. "Go to sleep, and I will watch, but if you ever tell anyone about this, that Blob Monster will be the least of your worries."

Zach nodded before curling up under the blankets.

"Thanks, Alex," he told her.

She smiled. "Your welcome. Besides, what kind of friend would I be if I let you get eaten by a Blob Monster?"

"Well, that's not something friends normally say to each other," Zach chuckled.

"Well, we're not exactly normal people," Alex pointed out.

"Good point," Zach laughed before drifting off to sleep.

Alex sat there, staring at Zach in the darkness of his room, for hours on end. She had almost fallen asleep at her post when Zach suddenly muttered something, and blue electricity shined in his hair, stretching over his head and throughout the rest of his body. Alex jolted fully awake and stared in shock as her friend continued to sleep, even as his powers turned on.

A rumble sounded, and Alex turned in horror as the Blob Monster appeared in the room, opening its giant mouth and sliding across the floor towards her.

"Zach!" Alex wailed, and her friend jolted awake at her yell. His eyes widened when he saw the monster, and he concentrated as hard as possible, electricity arcing through his hair and entire body as his powers were kicked into gear.

The Blob Monster vanished.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Alex shrugged. "You were using your powers in your sleep."

Zach's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

She nodded. "You must've been having nightmares about the monster, and that triggered your powers."

"How do I get them to stop?" he demanded.

She sighed. "I don't know, but until we find a way, I will be right here to make sure you don't get hurt or eaten by the Blob Monster."

He smiled. "Thanks, Alex. You're a good friend."

"I know," she said, jokingly, before grabbing his hand. "Seriously, though, I'm not leaving you alone."

Zach nodded, truly touched, before drifting off to sleep once more. Within an hour, Alex had fallen asleep as well, but they didn't need to worry. As long as Alex was holding Zach's hand, he didn't have a single nightmare.

Alex and Zach were as close as two friends could be without starting to date. Zach had thought of Alex has his family for as long as he could remember, and his parents also considered her a member of the family. She was always there for Zach, through thick and thin. He was comforted by her mere presence. Even the Blob Monster didn't seem so scary when she was by his side. Alex felt the same way about him. If he lost her or she lost him… they wouldn't know what to do.

But as Alex and Zach held hands, somehow they knew that everything will be okay… as long as they have each other.

* * *

 _You can see this as friendship or a family kind of relationship or you can see it as romance. It just really depends on how you see it._

 _Thanks for reading! Bye!_


	8. I Love My Actual Life

_EPISODE: DON'T GO TO SLEEP_

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

* * *

 _"The fun is just beginning…"_

And then Matt was falling. Down, down, down the rabbit hole he went, tumbling through the air until he fell with a thump onto… a queen sized bed?

He sat up, slowly, and jolted when he saw that his legs were much longer than he remembered and that his torso had seemingly stretched several inches within seconds. Unlike the other alternate realities he'd visited, he actually looked grown up in this one. He had to be in his early twenties at least.

Matt crawled out of bed, and he walked down the unfamiliar-yet-so-familiar (and that really shouldn't make as much sense as it did) hallway until he suddenly stopped beside a picture on the wall.

It was of him and his sister sitting on a picnic blanket with a little boy that looked like a lot like Matt. Seriously, it was eerie. Same blonde hair, same blue eyes, same scrawny figure that Matt had had at the boy's age, which was around two.

Who was he?

Matt walked a little farther down the hall and saw a birth certificate framed on the wall.

 **Johnathon Marcus Amsterdam**

 **Father: Matthew Andrew Amsterdam**

 **Mother: Pam Lucy Smith Amsterdam**

He was married to his sister? And they had a kid?

No… something didn't feel right here.

Matt climbed the ladder to the attic and dragged a dusty trunk out of the corner of the room and threw open the lid. This was where his family kept all of their important documents.

He found his folder (his parents organized everything into neat, organized folders labeled with their names) on top and withdraw a few papers.

His birth certificate still looked the same, but there were other papers he didn't remember having, as well.

Marriage document, claiming him to be married to Pam.

Photographs of him and Pam on dates, kissing, holding a baby.

Their entire family. His mom, dad, Pam, the boy, and him… But where was his brother?

Matt searched the entire trunk. There was no sign of Greg's birth certificate or his documents or any pictures of him. It was like he'd vanished off the face of the earth.

He didn't find anything about Greg, but he did find a folder on Pam…

He rifled through the papers until he located her birth certificate.

 **Pam Rosemary Smith**

 **Father: Jeremy Carter Smith**

 **Mother: Mabel Beatrice Walters Smith**

They weren't related… they were married with a kid…

It was all too much to take in at once. Matt sat on top of a nearby trunk and groaned as he put his head in his hands.

"Are you all right, honey?" Pam- his wife- asked as she appeared at the top of the ladder and walked into the attic.

"Fine, dear, just a headache," Matt muttered without thinking.

He blinked. Dear? Where had that come from? And why did it feel so right?

"Oh, I'll pick up some aspirin while I'm out today. Can you take Johnny to the playground while I run errands?" she asked.

He nodded and stood, smiling at her. His arms wrapped around her waist without him giving the command. It was instinct, autopilot, and it felt right.

"You are amazing," he told her, kissing her lightly on the lips.

A soft kiss quickly escalated to a full make out sessions, and Matt knew this should be wrong. She was his sister… but she wasn't. Was this reality or an alternate reality? If it was an alternate reality, none of this would feel right, and yet every detail felt painfully correct. A child, a wife, no siblings. It felt right, and he didn't know why.

Or maybe he did.

They parted, and with a kind smile (Matt had never known her to be kind when she was his sister), Pam descended the ladder, and Matt heard her get in the car. He waited until the engine rumbled out of the driveway before moving, and he navigated the house, knowing exactly which room was which, even though it looked drastically different than he remembered from a few hours ago.

He wandered into the middle room on his right and found himself staring at the cute boy from the photo, Johnny, standing up in a play pen.

"Daddy!" the boy squealed, reaching towards him, and Matt lifted him, holding Johnny against his side.

And in that moment, Matt knew that this was right. This was his reality. Whatever had happened with Pam being his sister and having a brother and such… that was the dream. This- Pam as his wife, Johnny as his son, no Greg- was real.

Matt hadn't hated his alternate reality with Pam as a sister; he hadn't even hated having a brother, although Greg could be incredibly irritating at times. But he preferred Pam as his wife; he loved his son, the little boy he held in his arms. In his eyes, this reality was perfect…

He loved his _actual_ life.

* * *

 _I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks for reading! Goodbye, everyone._


	9. Wishes Don't Always End Badly

_Hello._

 _EPISODE: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR_

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

* * *

It took Samantha over a week to track down Clarissa.

The woman sighed as she leaned against a nearby street light.

"My rule is whoever manages to track me down a second time can receive a wish. I'm not easy to find more than once, you know," she said. "What is your wish, Samantha?"

"I want you to free Judith," Samantha stated.

"Ok-"

"I'm not finished," Samantha interrupted. "I wish Judith, the girl you are about to free, was my older sister, related to me by blood and no other means. I wish we would get along really well and never argue; we share the same parents; we share the same room; and if anyone ever picks on me, Judith will protect me and defend me."

Clarissa grinned, proud that the girl had taken her advice on wording wishes carefully and being careful what you wish for.

"Done," she stated.

Samantha blinked, and when she opened her eyes, she was standing in her bedroom at home, but this time, there were two beds and much more stuff than before, due to the room having two occupants whether than one. Pictures decorated the walls, showing Judith and Samantha together in every single one, sometimes with their parents, friends, or just the two of them, but not one photograph pictured only one girl. They were side by side in all of them.

It worked.

Samantha swallowed an ecstatic squeal, and she bolted down the stairs to find Judith sitting at the table.

"Hey, little sis!" she exclaimed. Information appeared in Samantha's mind. Judith's birthday is August 19th, and she is ten months older than Samantha, so they're still in the same grade, despite one girl being older. "Ready to catch the bus?"

Samantha grinned. "Yep. Let's go, big sis."

The two of them walked out the door, Judith's arm wrapped around Samantha's shoulders, almost protectively.

Samantha had never been happier.

She'd always wanted to be friends with Judith, and this was even better!

* * *

Samantha's foot twisted around another girl's during basketball practice, and she hit the floor hard, banging her elbows sharply against the gym floor.

"Ha, did Byrd try to fly again?" another player mocked.

"Hey!" Judith shouted, storming over. "Take it back!"

"And if I don't?" the player demanded.

"Well, then, you'll find out what happens to people who mess with my little sister!" Judith growled.

"I think you should apologize, Jenna!" Emma, another player, called out. "Judith is fiercely protective."

Jenna scoffed. "I'm not afraid of a little squirt half my si-"

She cried out as Judith's fist connected with her nose, and she stumbled back, clutching a hand to her nose.

"I tried to warn you," Emma muttered. "She may look small, but when she's protecting her sister, she can be stronger than ten grown men."

"Judith!" the coach yelled. "You're benched for the next two games. Emma, take Jenna to the nurse."

"You got benched for me?" Samantha asked in disbelief.

Judith slung an arm around her shoulders. "It was worth it."

It felt good to have a sister, a permanent friend, and the fact that it was Judith, the girl she'd always wanted to be friends with, only made it better…

Samantha had made four wishes before this one. One wish made her team lose the game. Another turned everyone into flies. A third made Judith incredibly clingy. A fourth caused Judith to become a statue. All four wishes had ended in disaster.

But because of her fifth wish, she had a great, protective sister- a friend, a body guard, a confident, and so much more all rolled into one. She didn't need to worry about bullies or being alone all the time. She had Judith now, and that made her more happy than words can express.

This wish was proof that wishes don't always end badly…

* * *

 _Not my favorite chapter, but I think it was still good. Make sure to tell me what you think in the reviews! Thanks for reading! Goodbye, everyone!_


	10. If You Feel Nothing, You're Not Human

_Hello, everyone._

 _EPISODE: THE HOUSE OF NO RETURN_

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing._**

* * *

It was a crippling ache in the pit of his stomach, punching him over and over and consuming his entire being. It hurt and bugged him, but it wasn't a physical kind of hurt, unless you count the churning of his stomach. He tried to forget, but nothing worked. The feeling grabbed onto him and refused to let go.

Chris felt guilty.

Sure, Lori, Robbie, and Nathan had played a trick on him by locking him in that creepy house that was appropriately named The House Of No Return, but they hadn't actually believed the house was haunted. If they did, they would've pulled him out in three seconds; Chris knew that.

And yet, he was leaving three kids to the mercy of two ghosts that had almost captured Chris and taken his life. If he hadn't made that deal, he'd be dead.

He was alive, but only because three kids- three stupid, mean kids, but still innocent over all- had taken his place.

Chris felt sick just thinking about. Sure, he wasn't the one that pushed them off of the platform with ropes around their necks, but he might as well have tied their nooses and signed their death warrants.

Could he really live with himself knowing that he had walked away from three kids in grave danger to save his own skin? Would life even be worth living knowing he'd indirectly killed three people?

Answer: No

Chris turned on his heel and headed back in the direction of the House Of No Return, looming over him, like it was a monster itself and didn't simply house monsters (could ghosts be considered monsters?). The moon shined down on him, but it was hardly enough light to see his own shoes by, much less anything more than two feet in front of him. His heart thundered inside his chest, and sweat poured down his cheeks.

Leaves crunched beneath his shoes as he approached the back door of the house, and his hand rested on the doorknob.

Let's do this, he thought before opening the door, wincing at the creak.

He could hear the cackles of the ghosts on the other side of the house, and he could just barely detect the shaky breathing of the three danger-seekers (if they could be called that).

Floorboards murmured beneath his feet as he approached the back of the house, and he pressed his ear against the unlocked door, flinching at the harsh laughter the ghosts gave. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

Chris pushed the door open, slowly. Luckily, this was one of the few doors in the house that didn't creak. He peered inside at the terrified teens.

Robbie noticed him, immediately, and his eyes widened as he grasped Lori's hand. Lori and Nathan followed his gaze, and relief filled their expressions. The ghosts were too busy basking in their own victory to notice.

"What if…" Robbie stammered, "We could give you-"

Chris mouthed three words, and Robbie voiced them.

"-your child back."

Chris had seen something on his way out of the house. The face of unfamiliar little girl peaking around the corner. She wore clothes from the 1900s, like the other ghosts, and she looked so sad and terrified.

The ghosts abruptly stopped laughing.

"Don't joke with us, boy," the male ghost snarled.

"We're not!" Nathan assured him.

"Yeah, we can give you your daughter back. Right?" Lori said with a pointed look at Chris.

"We can," Chris said, stepping into the room and making his presence known. "in exchange, you release us all and never try to take another child again."

"If you give us our daughter back, we'll leave this plane for good," the woman said. "That's the only reason we haven't left. Do you think we want to haunt this house? We don't. We've been waiting for our daughter for years, but we could never find her."

"She's scared of you," Chris said. "She's in the house. I saw her. But she's scared to see you because, well, you're capturing children. That kind of speaks for itself."

"What should we do?" the father asked, and for the first time, Chris saw what must've been his former self shine through.

"Act like you did when she was alive. Call for her. Tell her you love her and that you won't be scary anymore," Chris advised.

Chris was just making this up as he went along. He just prayed it worked.

The father nodded before glancing at the door. Chris stepped to the side, and the ghost swallowed before opening his mouth.

"Emily!" he called (I don't think they ever mentioned the daughter's name in the episode, so I made one up). "Emily, it's Daddy!"

Nothing.

"We won't be scary anymore!" her mother cried. "I promise! Please we just want you to come back to us, baby."

Nothing. The ghosts slowly turned towards the living children, anger leaking into their expressions.

But then a floorboard creaked, and simultaneously, they all turned towards the door.

For a moment, there was nothing. No sound. No voice. No ghost.

And then…

"Mommy? Daddy?" a dainty voice sounded, and a girl crept around the corner. She couldn't have been more than three or four.

The parents fell to their knees, and the ghost girl dove into their arms.

"Thank you," the mother sobbed, staring at Chris. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. Now, we have to go!" Chris rushed to say before him and his companions rushed out the back door.

"You came back for us," Nathan said.

"Even though, we tricked you," Robbie added.

"I wasn't going to," Chris admitted, "but I felt guilty. You may be on the mean side, but you don't deserve that." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the house.

"We're sorry," Lori said. "Can we start over?"

Chris wanted to say no, but these kids had just been scared to death (almost literally). It was worth a shot to see how an experience like that could change them from risk taking, adventure seeking, trouble making kids to something else entirely. Maybe even friendly…

Chris held out his hand. "I'm Chris."

"I'm Lori, and this is Robbie and Nathan. It's nice to meet you…"

Chris didn't expect himself to feel guilty when he abandoned the three kids who tricked him in a haunted house with two ghosts. After all, they'd gotten themselves into that mess. But he decided that feeling guilty, which resulted in him putting himself in danger once again, was better than feeling no remorse at all. After all, humans are meant to feel. God made us that way.

And if you feel nothing, you're not human.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! Bye!_


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